


kiss me with adventure 'til i forget my name

by traumatic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety, Barista Harry, Bisexual Character, F/F, F/M, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderfluid Character, Harry in Lingerie, If You Squint - Freeform, Louis Works In A Lingerie Store, Louis in Lingerie, Mistaken Identity, Multi, Other, Shyness, Vaguely ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-17
Updated: 2016-11-17
Packaged: 2018-08-31 10:09:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8574208
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/traumatic/pseuds/traumatic
Summary: “Wow,” Louis says softly, stunned. “You look…”Vibrant, luminescent, glowing, unreal, magnificent, exuberant, fucking fuckable. or where Louis both loves and hates her job.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Started writing this for a fic exchange, scrapped it, restarted it, altered the plot a little, and then changed the name. 
> 
> Ultimately, this came from [this tumblr post.](http://claudiaboleyn.tumblr.com/post/68298762437/suburbanstresszits-a-romantic-comedy-where-a)  
> Title from 'Cliff's Edge' by Hayley Kiyoko.

Louis starts to work in a small clothing shop in early December.

She is a pro at the job by her second week.

Well, not a pro _per se_ , but close enough. She works the floor which means she helps customers shop and find things while also keeping the store in decent condition. It’s the best job she’s ever had, so she sticks around.

She hasn't had the best record with long-term jobs, but she stays at Laurel’s for well over a year.

The manager of ‘Laurel’s Lovely Lingerie’, Liam, isn’t a complete arse and is sort of a great person off the clock, so Louis finds herself quick friends with her. With friends come benefits. Like an extra long break and overtime.

Honestly, it’s amazing.

On a day in late October, Louis assists a small girl with wide brown eyes into a dressing room, asking her how many items she has and her name. She writes ‘Tahereh’ on the board outside her door and heads off when she hears the bell above the door jingle.

A customer, that means, has entered the store.

Louis heads to the front to greet them, tugging irritatedly on her name tag. It's one of the things she can't get out of by being friends with her manager, sadly, so it dangles pathetically from her neck, glitter sparkling in the fluorescent lights.

“Hello,” Louis says with a bright smile.

The person looks up at her, curly, short hair framing her face. Her eyes are brilliant and green, sparkling with surprise as a blush creeps across her cheekbones.

“Hi.”

“Is there anything I could help you with today?” Louis steps forward, nearly wrinkling her nose at the height difference between them.

The girl is quite tall. Louis is average height. How _fantastic_ . _More_ tall people. Louis almost sighs.

“Um, no. Thank you,” The girl says politely, slowly. “I'm just looking.”

“Okay, love,” Louis smiles again, her customer service voice in full effect. “If you need anything, don't be afraid to ask, okay?”

The tall girl nods and walks away, brushing her long fingers against the soft silk of a pink robe.

Louis gives her a parting glance, one that she meets, before ducking away to clean up a section of misorganized corsets.

-

When Louis spots the girl twenty minutes later, she looks near tears.

“Hey, love, what's wrong?”

The girl shutters, her phone pressed tightly against her chest.

“I just...I'm a bit shaken,” she admits softly, shakily.

“It's alright,” Louis whispers, placing her hand on the girl’s back to lead her toward a fitting room.

To calm her down and stuff. Louis gets why shopping is stressful. It's agonizing. Especially for lingerie.

It's actually happens a lot.

“Shh, come with me, okay?”

Louis takes a glance at the small, cramped fitting rooms and turns her toward the employee break area. She can’t force a girl having a panic attack into a small space that reeks of expensive perfume. She won’t.

“Sit here,” Louis says, hand corded tightly around the girl’s shoulder, arm draped behind her back. “I’ll make you some tea, yeah?”

The girl nods and settles down daintily in the chair, covering her eyes with her hands. Louis fills the teapot with water and sets it on the stove to boil. She calmly walks toward the girl, eyes filled with compassion.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Louis asks and she feels like a fucking idiot.

She hates when people ask her that, but here she is, asking away. But what else is she supposed to say?

“I just...I’m new...to this whole shopping thing,” the girl wipes at her eyes and laughs, sounding choked. “Just moved out of my parents’ house and they'd have just died if I bought lingerie and they godforbid saw it.”

“Ah,” Louis grins, pulling a chair around so it faces the girl, “so you’re a lingerie virgin, then?”

The girl grins through the tears, like sun shining through the clouds on a rainy day. She’s _beautiful_.

Louis glances at the kettle when it begins to whistle and stands, filling two mugs with tea and cream.

“Do you take sugar?”

She would never, ever take sugar in her tea, so she’s asking out of courtesy, because some people just don’t have good taste. Luckily, the girl makes a face and shakes her head.

“Sugar murders the taste,” Louis agrees and carries the two mugs over.

She sits down on the chair again, stirring her tea with her spoon.

“I'm Louis, by the way.”

“I'm Harry,” Harry wipes at her eyes. “I probably look like a mess.”

“Nah," Louis says and means it, "you look great.”

-

“So, are you ready to get back out there?” Louis asks a while later after they’ve finished their tea.

“I think so,” Harry says and sighs, gnawing roughly on her lip.

“I’ll help you out, okay?”

Louis’ mum would be proud at how calm Louis is being, at how professional and respectable. Louis is pretty proud, too. She’s usually jumpy and fidgety, restless and hyper. It seems Louis _does_ know how to act in an emergency.

She leads Harry back onto the floor, small hand pressed firmly between her shoulderblades.

“What were you thinking about getting? Did you have anything in mind?”

“Not really.”

She’s not embarrassed; she’s anxious. Louis can see the difference in her eyes.

“Alrighty then,” Louis grins, hooks her arm with Harry, and says. “We’ll find something for you, love.”

“Thank you,” Harry says and looks down into Louis’ eyes, grateful.

Louis can tell. She just smiles.

“Is there any colour you had in mind, though? It’ll help narrow down the areas we need to look at.”

“I don’t know,” Harry answers and she looks like she’s holding back. “What do you think?”

“Lavender, maybe,” Louis muses, voice soft, “or baby pink.”

Baby pink, Louis thinks successfully, yes.

“Sounds good to me. Think you’ll try a set on so I can see what one’s supposed to look like?”

Louis can’t fight the grin. What a little _shit_.

“Maybe,” Louis says with a biting smirk.

-

“This would look lovely on you,” Louis says, holding up a silk robe.

It's more on the expensive side, but Harry assures her that money is not an issue.

Harry reaches out and brushes her fingers against the black lace, nails painted bright blue. Her pointer finger has a chip missing from it, the only imperfection Louis can find with Harry.

“It's lovely,” Harry admits and Louis nods, tucking it over her forearm.

They've got a nice pile of things for Harry to try on. She looks a bit nervous, but Louis is good at reassurances.

She works in _retail_ , after all.

“You’re gonna look perfect in anything,” Louis says honestly as Harry eyes a black lace corset, “so my job is extremely easy.”

Harry just smiles and hands Louis the corset after a half of a second.

“Ready to try some stuff on?”

Harry nods, so Louis smiles and gathers up the pile of things gently, carrying them toward the fitting room, Harry at her heels.

“Would it be weird if...you gave opinions on them?” Harry asks softly. “Is that weird?”

“I don’t think so, no. I’ve done it before. Even rated the outfits from 1 to 10 for this dude who still comes by.”

“Do you think you could do it for me?”

“Definitely.”

She might have a bit of a hard time differentiating between outfit ratings. Harry’s sure to kill every single thing she puts on.

Louis hangs the lingerie from the hooks in the dressing room, sorting by garment type. Robes on the first hook, corsets on the next, different types of panties on the next and so on.

“I’ll be just outside, love,” Louis smiles, opening the door and letting Harry in.

Harry enters with her shoulders held high, steps sure. Louis hears the door lock as she takes a few steps away, tugging relentlessly on her nametag. It’s fucking annoying, is what it is.

It’s a few moments full of the store music— Liam picked today, so it’s shite, but Louis knows all the words— and the rustle of clothes before Harry’s lock opens and she steps out.

Louis tries not to look as stunned as she feels. Harry is more gorgeous than Louis could’ve ever imagined.

Soft, curvy hips and long, lean legs, a splattering of pale freckles across her bare shoulders, skin so soft looking it defies logic. Goddamn everything. Harry is perfect. Louis is fucked.

It takes her definitely longer than a minute to remember how to use her tongue, but neither of them mention it. Harry just grins secretly like she fucking knows.

“The panties are cute as hell,” Louis manages to choke out, forcefully drawing her eyes to the blush coloured fabric pressed softly against Harry’s skin, “but you’re cuter.”

“Rating?” Harry asks, turning in the mirror to look at her arse with a wicked grin.

“Eight,” Louis decides, “because the tone is too deep for you. Paler colours might work better, in my opinion.”

Harry nods thoughtfully and struts back into the dressing room, hips twisting with every step.

If Louis had a dick, it’d be hard, which is extremely unprofessional.

Oh well.

-

The next outfit Harry tries on is a floral lace bustier in white. It’s panelled with soft lace hemmed through the edges and paired with semi opaque panties. God, she looks stunning in it.

“Ten,” Louis answers immediately. “Ten point five. Eleven.” _One hundred and six._

Harry grins again and nods.

“I like it, too.”

“You look…” Louis doesn’t want to overstep her professional boundaries, but the temptation to tell Harry she looks beautiful as fuck is too much. “You look beautiful.”

Louis has never seen someone so stunning. She works in a lingerie store, has seen dozens of beautiful girls and boys and people in between, but Harry takes the title easily.

“Thank you,” Harry says and grins so bright it might burn Louis’ eyes out with its luminescence. “How about you try one on now?”

Louis scoffs and laughs, fighting the grin as it overtakes her face. The _nerve!_

“After you,” is what Louis says, lifting an eyebrow.

Harry fucking laughs, a melodious and riveting sound, and disappears into the dressing room for half a second before turning back to Louis.

“Well?” She says and she holds up another garment of front of herself. “Go on.”

Louis wants to be mad, she really does, but the grin on Harry’s face is much too convincing.

Besides, Liam won’t be mad; she loves looking at Louis’ arse in lace. In a “strictly friend manner” as she calls it.

“I’ll be right back.”

Louis ducks away to grab a set off of the new arrivals rack. She’s been looking at it all day with want, so she figures it’s as good a time as any.

She winks at Harry before heading into her own dressing room, grinning so wide it hurts.

Louis, of course, can hear Harry's laugh through the thin dressing room walls and reciprocates it, laughing so hard she has to grab onto the door handle to stay upright.

“Almost ready?”

“Some of us almost aren't naturally able to slip something right on, Harry. Chill.”

Louis adjusts the straps on the bustier and sighs, turns to look at her arse, and opens the door.

Harry's seated on one of the lush chairs, looking immortal and untouchable in a pale blue silk robe, a matching corset, and pale translucent thigh highs.

Louis swallows roughly, hands sweaty as she presses them against her thighs, suddenly nervous.

“Wow,” Louis says softly. “You look…”

Vibrant, luminescent, glowing, unreal, magnificent, exuberant, fucking _fuckable_.

Louis, of course, is tongue tied as fuck, so the embarrassing, inappropriate, and vaguely sexist thought never falls past her lips. Thankfully.

“Thank you,” Harry smirks, crossing her legs so the expanse of her thighs are on show.

Christ. Louis is fucked. How did she ever think liking girls and working in a lingerie shop would work out?

“You look effervescent, as well.”

Louis nods and swallows harshly once more, a chorus of _ohfuckohfuckohfuck_ running through her mind when Harry stands and walks toward Louis.

“You should buy that,” Harry smiles, fingers hanging the air as if she'd intended to touch Louis but decided not to. “It's perfect on you.”

Louis would buy the earth and the moon and all of the cosmos just to have Harry's eyes lingering on her body for just one more second. Which is absolutely _crazy_ because they just _met_.

Louis nods instead of moving and watches Harry stalk into the dressing room, a beautiful and glorious woman.

Louis stares wide eyed at her door and heads back into her own dressing room, resting her head against the door after she closes it.

“Fuck.”

She's going to fucking die if she doesn't get Harry's number.

-

Louis isn't a cashier, sadly, so she helps Harry carry her choices to the registers. Niall stands behind a till, grinning slyly.

“Hello.”

“Hi,” Harry smiles.

“I'm gonna...go,” Louis has never been more nervous in her life. “Maybe I'll see you again sometime?”

She waits for Harry to ask for her number or something, but she doesn't. Just smiles like they've a joke only they get.

“Definitely.”

Louis smiles back and passes her discount card to Niall. It's their little secret. Hers and Niall's.

Louis leaves after Niall scans it, walking away slowly in the hopes that Harry will stop her.

She doesn't.

-

Louis sort of forgets about the encounter. It's not that Harry didn't leave an impression, because she did, it's that Louis is just really busy with work and keeping her flat clean and her life in general.

It's the crest of July and the sun is relentless where the cute barista at Louis’ new favourite café is not. He’s tall and lanky, curly-haired and green eyed. A fucking stunner, if she’s ever seen one.

Louis'd not previously had too great of an attraction to boys—she'd actually begun her question her bisexuality a bit—but he's beautiful and Louis is enamoured from the first conversation. He pours her coffee in the early mornings, hands her a hand baked scone, asks about her days and really _means_ it. He's the best person she's ever met.

Except he thinks they've met before. Louis had just nodded, far too entranced to provide any other commentary than movement when he'd mentioned it, but she thinks about it quite a bit. She hopes it doesn't become a problem.

Louis doesn't actually know _his_ name, either, which is yet another thing. Everyday he sports a different name tag, so Louis is always clueless. One day he's John and the next he's Thaddeus and after that he's Frankie and Adam and Paul.

Honestly, Louis couldn't care less if his name was Reginald, but she'd still like to know.

“Hey,” he grins from across the counter on a particularly sunny Monday morning. “Let me guess. You'll have a vanilla latte with a chocolate chip scone.”

“Hmm...As appetizing as that sounds, I think I'll try something new today.”

Surprise crosses his face as he smirks, fingers hovering over the keys of the register.

“I'll have a vanilla latte with a _blueberry_ scone today, good sir.”

“Coming right up,” he winks.

He turns around, today sporting the name Andrew, and begins to fix her coffee.

Louis takes her seat, staring obviously out the window in avoidance of Andrew's cute arse. She's a sucker, apparently.

She sends Niall a Snap of Andrew's side profile, mastering in stalking cute people, and hums.

Niall's reply is herself as a koala, so Louis knows she's alone on this. She sighs and rests her head against the table, only lifting it long enough to glance up at Andrew's face when he approaches.

“What's up?” He asks, leaning against the edge of her table.

“My friends are helpless. I'm tired and wish I’d stayed in bed. How about you?”

“About the same.”

His laugh is melodic. Louis is smitten.

“So I've a question for you,” Louis reaches for her latte and speaks over the rim of the mug.

“Okay. What's it, then?”

“Your name tag.”

“Oh,” he looks down as if he'd forgotten he'd had it on. “I don't like it when customers call me by my real name. It gets a bit weird when an angry man starts using my name as a curse word because of who I am.”

Louis furrows her brow. She's a little confused. Who he is?

“Like, just because I'm genderfluid doesn't mean that my name is invalid. It's just means that it has two meanings, you know? Like sometimes I'm Harry the girl and other times I'm Harry the boy and sometimes I’m just Harry. It's not that hard to understand.”

Louis had no idea he was genderfluid. It's in that moment of split second silence that Louis realizes where she'd met him. He and Lingerie Harry—as Niall had taken to referring to her—are the same fucking person.

Louis is honestly surprised that she didn't fucking see it. The hair, the eyes, the smile. She's a goddamn idiot, is what she is.

“So I use a multitude of names so the bitter customers can't turn me into a metaphor for how shitty our society is.”

“That's actually really deep,” Louis says softly, making her surprise, “and also really fucked up. You deserve the respect of your own name.”

Louis smiles and scoffs at herself. She's been flirting with the same person for weeks. _Months_!

“Yeah, but this is a small town. No one really quite gets people who differentiate from their norm.”

Louis muses solemnly, “You still deserve respect, Harry.”

Harry, his name finally known, nods his head. Louis is endeared.

“I've another question.”

“Shoot,” Harry takes a seat across from Louis, smiling even though he'd clipped his knee off of the underside of the table.

“Why didn't you ask for my number back at Laurel’s?”

“Why didn't you ask me for _mine_?”

“I guess I was scared. That's usually how it goes, right? Scared of being rejected because it's embarrassing as fuck.”

“Agreed. I was afraid, too,” Louis understands that Harry had more of a reason to be afraid.

The world is full of cruel and ignorant people. Harry'd had no clue that Louis wasn't one of the people that would bash on his identity (She would never).

“Another question,” Louis presses her lips together, “but you don't have to answer it, okay?”

“I'll probably answer, but go on.”

“What are you pronouns?”

“Oh!” Harry laughs, looking relieved. “I thought you were going to ask something offensive!”

Louis shakes her head, wondering how many people ask the type of questions that Harry thought she'd ask.

“It varies,” Harry supplies cheerfully as Louis breaks her scone in half, offering her half to Harry, “upon how I'm feeling. There isn't really a set schedule, which sometimes sucks, but it's me. Today is he / him, but the first time I met you was she / her. Sometimes I feel...in between, almost, or both at the same time, in which case you can use they / them. You can also use they / them whenever you're unsure or are talking about me to someone else.”

Louis nods and takes a bite of her scone, sipping her latte whilst listening.

“So…” Louis murmurs unsurely after a moment or so of silent chewing, grinning from ear to ear. “Would you like to get dinner sometime?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
